


VLDWhumpmas Day 11: Pneumonia

by carefulren



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pneumonia, Sick Character, Sick Keith (Voltron), Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 22:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13444308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefulren/pseuds/carefulren
Summary: the one where Lance leaves his apartment neighbor a note because the guy is clearly sick, and the guy shows up at Lance's apartment looking really sick and asking for medicine





	VLDWhumpmas Day 11: Pneumonia

_“Dear Guy from Apt. 3-B,  
_

_It appears you’re sick.”_

Lance pauses– pen hovering over the word sick. If anything, ‘sick’ is the understatement of the century, if the coughing alone is anything to go by. 

It started a week ago– that much Lance can remember. He bumped into the guy in the hall, and boy, did he look rough. Lance never caught a name– not when he was too busy practically gaping at the flushed cheeks glowing a deep red against pale, almost ashen, skin or the slick sheen of sweat coating sunken features. He only managed out a weak “uh, you okay?” before the guy shrugged with a harsh cough and sidestepped around to get to the stairs. 

The days to follow were rough; Lance just barely caught sight of the guy slipping out of the apartment complex in a leather jacket– long, unruly hair pulled back against the sharp winter breeze. It was at the same time everyday; they always just missed each other, with Lance returning the apartment building as his neighbor left, but Lance still saw the guy stalking down the snow-covered sidewalk with hunched shoulders and a popped jacket collar. 

While they never came face-to-face, Lance could hear every hacking cough. He could hear every groan of discomfort, every stumble to the bathroom for a glass of water. He could hear it all, and frankly, he was worried, even if he didn’t really know the guy. 

He meant to mind his own business– it’s something Hunk has been berating him about for years, but last night… Last night was, well, quite scary actually. There was more coughing then there was silence, and at one point, Lance was sure he heard the dull thump of a fall, followed by more barking coughs that left Lance wincing while remaining wide awake– just in case. 

After that, he knew he had to do something, so he figured a note– it’s not too pushy but still enough to let the guy know he’s here. 

_“I can hear you coughing every night. (The walls are incredibly thin; why do you think rent is so low?) It sounds painful, dude, and to be honest, I’m a little concerned. I’ve seen the jacket you wear– leather, dude, really? You must not be from around here, and I get it; I was in your shoes once. I come from a tropical place myself, and let me just say, the winters here were a MAJOR ADJUSTMENT.”_

Lance contemplates crossing out at least half of the paragraph but shakes his head instead and grips his pen tighter as he furiously scribbles. 

_“What I’m trying to get at is that I’m here if you need anything; I can help you get a better coat, or whatever… I also have medicine if you need some. Not to brag, but I’ve binge-watched five seasons of Grey’s Anatomy in one sitting, so I’m kinda an expert with medical stuff._

_So, don’t hesitate to knock on my door at anytime, okay?  
_

_Sincerely,  
_

_Lance from Apt. 3-A.”_

He adds a smiley face to make the note seem more… well… approachable before he slips out of his room to tape it to the other guy’s door. When he gets back to his room, he curls under his blankets, exhausted from the sleepless night before, and drifts off, feeling a slight weight being lifted from his chest. 

*****

The dull knock pulls Lance from slumber to consciousness, but the hacking coughs get him moving. He’s on his feet in seconds, stumbling in the dark to get to the door, and when he rips it open, he blinks against the sudden hallway light to see the guy from next door turned away and coughing harshly into the crook of his arm. Lance frowns at the specks of snow dusting the guy’s hair and jacket, and when the guy finally manages to catch his breath, Lance takes in the wind-bitten cheeks with questioning eyes. 

“Uh, hey,” the guy says, or rather, croaks– enough to have Lance wincing at the deep rasp. “I got your note.” 

“Uh, yeah,” Lance starts, unsure of what to say– something that’s rare for him. 

“I was wondering if you had some cough medicine..” 

“Of course!” Lance steps aside, flicking the light switch before he motions for the guy to step into the apartment. He leads his neighbor into the kitchen, nodding toward a chair as he sneaks off to the bathroom’s medicine cabinet. 

He opts for cough medicine, ibuprofen, and a thermometer, just in case, before he doubles back into the kitchen, finding the guy doubled over and barking out deep, chesty coughs, one after the other until Lance is dropping his supplies on the table to rub a gentle hand against the guy’s back. 

Lance can feel his neighbor shaking under his palm, even after the coughing subsides. His frown deepens as he steps away. 

“You must be freezing,” Lance says, and the guy nods as a sharp shiver shoots up his spine. 

“Gotta walk to and from work. I don’t know how to drive on all this ice.” 

“..You walk?”

“It’s four blocks.”

“You walk!?” Lance’s hands wave about wildly in the air. “You walk outdoors like this? With that sorry excuse of a jacket?! No wonder you’re sick!” 

“It’s just a cold.” 

“A cold,” Lance repeats, voice mirroring the disbelief that’s taken hold of his features. “You think this is just a cold? You kept me up all night with the coughing and hacking, and it sounded like you passed out at some point!” It’s not quite anger that’s spiking across Lance’s blood– he can’t pin it. Frustration maybe? 

“I’m sorry-” the guy starts, bringing one fist to his mouth to cough harshly. “I… kept you up.” 

Sympathy colors Lance’s eyes, and he shakes his head. “No, it’s fine– just. Here.” He holds out the thermometer, and his neighbor arches a brow. 

“I just need medicine.” 

“Humor me.” 

Whether it’s exhaustion or a want to leave as fast as possible, the guy obliges, and just moments later, Lance is sucking in a sharp hiss of a gasp at the 104.6 degree reading blinking back at him. His hand is trembling slightly as he leans forward to brush his palm to the guy’s forehead; he’s hoping the device is broken– that it’s just a fluke of a number– but the heat is there, and it’s intense.

“Dios mío,” Lance mutters under his breath as he turns away from the table to find boots and a coat because this guy is not okay. At all. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Hospital,” Lance calls out, hopping on one foot as he shoves a boot onto the other. “Your fever’s too high– this isn’t a cold.”

“That’s–” the guy tries, but a burning coughing fit shoves up his throat. It’s two minutes before he can speak, and by now, Lance has a coat and boots on over his pajamas, and he’s got his fingers curled tightly around his keys. 

“Not necessary,” the guy finally finishes, and Lance shakes his head. 

“No, it is. Look,” he pauses, motioning to the guy. 

“Keith.” 

“Great. Look, Keith. Your fever’s pushing 105, and you can’t go five seconds without coughing. And, I’m pretty sure I hear a very concerning crackling sound that’s coming from your lungs, so I’m driving you to the hospital before I have to explain to cops that you died in my apartment because you’re too damn stubborn.” 

Lance is borderline breathless by the time he’s done, but his words must strike the right chord because Keith only nods with pressed lips and allows Lance to help him to his feet. 

*****

When Lance spots the doctor coming out of a wide set of double doors, he hops to his feet immediately, crossing the large waiting room to meet the man half-way. 

“Pneumonia,” the doctor starts with a frown. “It’s bad but treatable. He’s going to have to stay for a few days.” 

Nodding, Lance fiddles with the sleeve of his coat. He should leave–he only knows Keith’s name, so staying would be.. weird? Odd? Inappropriate?

“He’s asking for you.” 

“Huh?”

“Keith. He’s asking to see you.”

Lance takes a step back, eyes blowing out wide at the doctor’s words. “He is?” 

“Yes. I’ll walk you back.” 

Lance wordlessly follows the doctor until he’s standing in Keith’s room as the doctor leaves to give them privacy. He can’t meet Keith’s eyes– he doesn’t want to look at the ghostly pale skin or the large mask covering half of Keith’s face–  so he paces instead, keeping his eyes locked to the floor. 

“Look, I’m not normally that mean. Or pushy. Or whatever. You were just scaring the hell out of me and being so stubborn, and damn, dude, I really thought you were going to keel over and die on me, and-” 

“Lance.” 

Lance’s tumbling words come to a halt, and he snaps a sharp gaze to see Keith panting while holding the oxygen mask away from his mouth. “Yeah?” 

“Thanks.” 

It’s one word– a small rasp that’s choppy and an apparent struggle, but it’s enough to have Lance’s tense shoulders sagging with a wave of relief that floods his body to his very core. 

“Uh, yeah, no problem.” 

“Stay?” 

The one word question is unexpected– it’s small but it carries a forceful weight that has Lance practically running toward the chair closest to Keith’s bed.

“Of course.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This is in my top fics that I've written, so here I am not putting it in my VLD H/C One-Shots series.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Don't Be Stupid](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14038299) by [TheDarkFlygon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkFlygon/pseuds/TheDarkFlygon)




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